therapists and other caregivers can help to nudge and spur others awake in the very
process of dealing with particular problems. Not ignoring or denying the particular
problem, but taking it to its very root; precisely here the root problem of dukkha can
be solved once and for all. This, by the way, is what real koan practice is all about,
what Vimalakirti is all about—and what Buddhism is all about.
Let me close by offering some other suggestive illustrations of this in practice,
although Shih-t’ou’s above-mentioned responses to the monk and Hisamatsu’s
encounter with Alan Balsam are worthy of much deeper reflection. Much could be
said about each of these stories, but I will keep my comments to a minimum, and
leave the interpretations to you.
A group of men were enjoying themselves in the woods when one of the women
with them stole some of their valuables and ran away. Encountering Shakyamuni as
they chase after the woman, Shakyamuni asks them, ‘Which is better for you, that
you should seek for a woman or that you should seek for the self?’ (Horner 1971:31–
2). This may sound like Shakyamuni is unconcerned with the stolen items, or with
the woman—he is only concerned with the men’s fundamental problem. But is that
really so?
The traditional parable of the mustard seed tells of a mother, distraught over the
death of her only son, who carries him in her arms to Shakyamuni in hopes of
obtaining medicine for him. Shakyamuni tells her to enter the city and get mustard
seeds for medicine, but they must be from homes where no one has ever died. During
her search, she hears the sorrows of many others when they explain to her why they
cannot give her a mustard seed from their homes, for indeed many have died there.
Her heart is eventually opened to the universal—not just objective—truth of
impermanence. She then takes her dead child to the pyre and returns to Shakyamuni
(see Burtt 1955:43–6).
What do you see when looking in the eyes of another? I heard that once Mother
Theresa was asked what she saw when she looked in the eyes of the filthy, diseased,
and dying cradled in her shoulder. She replied, ‘Christ in his distressing disguise.’
While we should not gloss over the differences in this Christian ‘metaphor,’ I take it
as an illuminating illustration of who the other truly is: A Buddha. Perhaps a Buddha
who has not yet fully awakened to this fact. But a Buddha nonetheless.
Is this not what genuine Buddhist therapy comes down to?: Buddha encountering
Buddha.
While he is dreaming he does not know it is a dream, and in his dream he may
even try to interpret a dream. Only after he wakes does he know it was a dream.
And someday there will be a great awakening when we know that this is all a
great dream. Yet the stupid believe they are awake, busily and brightly assuming
they understand things, calling this man ruler, that one herdsman—how dense!
Confucius and you are both dreaming! And when I say you are dreaming, I am
dreaming, too.
Chuang Tzu, chapter 2 (Watson 1968:47–8)JEFF SHORE 41